


God Forbid We Do the 'Dull Stuff'

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Touchy-Feely, Sometimes Silly, BDSM Stuff [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Sherlock, Cock Rings, Collars, Consensual, Dom!John, Handcuffs, M/M, Riding Crop, posture collars, rough, sub!Sherlock, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Give me some erotic humiliation, please. Sherlock/John. I'd prefer it with Sherlock on the bottom, being bratty but ultimately obedient. I'm talking things like physical punishment, being talked down to, verbal humiliation, degrading positions (who doesn't want Sherlock on his knees?), etc etc.</p><p>Must be consensual and utterly filthy. I don't mind if they roleplay out a dubcon scene- in fact, that could be bloody delicious. Just so long as it's clear they both fucking love it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Forbid We Do the 'Dull Stuff'

God Forbid We Do the Dull Stuff

 

John looked at Sherlock long and hard. Biting the inside of his cheek, he thought about what the detective had shared with him. “Are you certain? I mean, is that something you really want?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, showing his impatience. “When have I ever been uncertain about anything?”

“Right.” John gave a sharp nod. “Could be fun.”

“How could you having me at your every whim for as long as you want not be fun?”

The doctor shrugged one shoulder. “Good point.”

“We'll just stick to our normal safe words and limits. No need to talk and all the dull stuff.”

John let out a fond sort of sigh. “God forbid we do the 'dull stuff.'“ Still, he wasn't arguing, they should be fine. Sparkling green eyes blinked at John and he saw a thrum of excitement pass through Sherlock. “What… now?”

“Obviously.”

No more invitation was required for the good doctor. He lunged at Sherlock and a struggle ensued. Neither man had any idea how long the struggle lasted, all that they both knew was Sherlock had lost, but that had been inevitable.

John had the detective face down. He was sat on his shoulders, but leaning back to keep his head from thrashing. One hand had both the younger man's wrists pinned behind him and the other had pushed down his pants and grasped his bollocks as tightly as he dared. Sherlock froze instantly. Without letting go, John slid his thumb as far as he could along the detective's perineum, it was slick and wet with lube. He was certain his lover's entrance was slick and loose. Sherlock must have prepared himself before their little talk. “My, my. It looks like I've caught a little slut, all slicked up for me.”

Sherlock sensed an opportunity, as John played with his hole, he loosened his grip on his balls and that had been the only part of his predicament that had caused him to freeze. He bucked up, dislodging the doctor the only way possible; pushing him back to sit on his head.

John chuckled darkly. “Didn't think that through, did you?” A broken whimper was the response he received.

Sherlock's upper arms were still pinned beneath John's thighs, so he scrabbled at the doctor as best as he could with his limited range of motion. When he started kicking, John pushed back just a bit more. Sherlock finally got the message and went limp. The doctor scooted forward a bit, allowing the younger man a bit of comfort, but at the same time, he grasped Sherlock's cock roughly. “Don't get any more bright ideas, you're going to be mine.” John paused for effect. “Now, slut, if I release you what will happen?”

“Is the door open?”

John let his palm fall hard on Sherlock's pale arse making him yelp. He squeezed his thighs in, keeping him still and reached over to grab Sherlock's Belstaff from the sofa, he was sure he'd find a set of nicked handcuffs. If he was going to be hard work, John had no problem with that, but he would endeavour to make it difficult for him too.

Now wielding handcuffs, the doctor wrestled one of Sherlock's arms into position and snapped the cuffs into place. The process shifted his balance just enough that the detective was able to buck him off. John maintained his grip on the handcuffs as they rolled around the floor, knocking the coffee table over during the scuffle.

“I don't think so, you brat,” John hissed. Sherlock had somehow managed to get to his feet so he latched onto his ankle, sending the younger man flying into the sofa. Putting all his army training to good use, John launched himself onto the detective being far rougher than Sherlock had been. He worried for less than a second that he had been too rough, but Sherlock had no qualms, the tougher the better so it seemed. He gripped his fist into dark curls and yanked his head back. “Sluts don't get to choose when to cooperate.”

“Fuck you,” Sherlock snarled, spittle flying.

John leered at him, twisted his head to the side and bit down at the join of neck and shoulder. Sherlock hissed air in through his teeth.

“Try anything like that again, and you will be in serious bother.”

Of course, Sherlock didn't take the hint, why should he? “Fuck you!” He repeated.

John shook his head contemplatively. He was asking for it now so he forced his other wrist into the cuffs with some difficulty before dragging him from the comfort of the chair and onto the floor.

“Kneel!” John barked, all traces of the soft, caring doctor gone. This was Captain John Watson.

Sherlock still tried to scramble away, but John was having none of it. The detective's curls were simply too tempting, therefore, John grabbed a handful and hauled him up by them. The younger man was on his knees, much to the doctor's satisfaction, but still had far too much fight in him. With his free hand, John unfastened his belt and drew it free. He leaned down and hissed, “Don't move.”

“Why shouldn't I?”

John shifted him into a position where he could wrap the belt tightly around his ankles and somehow managed it without too much of a struggle. Sherlock was still hissing expletives so John used his now lack of clothing and forced his hardening cock into the detective's mouth. Sherlock made one more mistake here and John should have seen it coming. He bit down.

It was a completely instinctive reaction, John's knee jerked up hitting Sherlock hard. Fortunately, he caught him in the shoulder, throwing him back. The doctor gasped in pain and horror, but one look at Sherlock kept him from breaking role. The smug grin on his face had pushed John to the limit. He slapped him. Hard. Sherlock couldn't even bring up a hand to his face, given their current position so he sniffed indifferently, his face smarting.

“John, I-”

“Shut it, slut! Sluts don't get to call me John. Sluts don't even get to speak unless given direct permission.”

He tucked his cock away. Happy the brat couldn't move, he routed through cupboards for their box of toys and pulled out their selection of gags.

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. “No! I can be quiet.”

John ignored him, selecting a large ball gag. He returned to the helpless detective and wrenched his head back using his curls. “Open!” Sherlock kept his jaw locked and his mouth shut, but had to surrender to the inevitable when John pressed his thumb in at the hinge point. The doctor, moving swiftly, soon had the gag buckled in place.

The younger man's eyes screamed resentment, but of course he didn't speak. He tried to lower his head, but John was having none of it. He yanked him back and fixed a high posture collar around his neck, forcing his chin up. They'd only used the collar once and Sherlock had hated it.

Sherlock hadn't felt so wonderfully helpless in loving hands before, despite the games they had played. John was being brilliant! The detective growled low in his throat in mock protest when he saw John fetch the riding crop.

The doctor spoke in a menacing voice, “I'll beat some of the fight out of you, slut.”

Sherlock fell back on his heels as if to protect his arse from the older man, but John was fine with that. He ran the crop beneath his chin, tapping the collar as he went. “Do you honestly think you stand a chance?”

Sherlock wanted to wrench his head away, but couldn't. Instead, he managed to lurch his entire body, falling over to the side. In retribution, John brought the crop down on the detective's hip in a sharp blow. John rocked him onto his front and lay the crop on his back. “I don't need to tell you what happens to sluts who move my property, do I?” With that, the doctor made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. When he came back, he slumped in the chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the raised ass.

The detective tolerated the indignity for an amazing seven minutes, then he started bucking his hips, trying to dislodge, John's feet. The doctor just laughed. “You can kick out as much as you want, slut, you're not exactly going anywhere.” More shifting and acting out on Sherlock's part only got him on his back with John's booted feet dangerously close to his treasured privates.

John grabbed the belt around Sherlock's ankles and pulled his feet up. He used a leash that had made an appearance the last time the collar had and tied his feet to his neck. Then he ran his finger around his brat’s hole which was presented nicely. John quickly pressed in with one finger and crooked it. “Yes, nice and slick and loose.” Two more fingers slid in by the first and Sherlock's hole contracted around them as the detective groaned. “Mmm, Sherlock, proper slutty hole,” John smirked. He heard a groan from the younger man and didn't take his eyes off him as he laughed. “But seeing as you want to be fucked, I couldn't possibly waste my time, could I?” John loomed over Sherlock's face and smiled down at him. “Since I can't fuck you, what to do next?” He petted the detective's hair and pondered. “You have to be uncomfortable, but that's not really the issue is it. My pleasure is, so...” John grabbed some lube, pulled himself back out of his trousers, and took up position behind the detective. Using his hands, he lifted Sherlock's arse and ground against him, getting as much pleasure as possible without penetration.

The detective whimpered, there was nothing he could do to force the older man to do more so he just waited him out.

“Bored are you, slut?”

Sherlock shifted in affirmation and looked at John with pleading eyes.

“I take that as a yes, then,” the doctor smirked. He slapped the well-presented arse with his left hand. “When I fuck you nice and rough, and it will be rough, you won't be, but that's not happening yet. You're not desperate enough and you will be desperate.”

John went back to the toy box. He returned with a cock ring in one hand and a prostate stimulator in the other. Sherlock actually tried to get away and John stopped him with his foot pressed onto his cock. “You'll miss all the fun.” John toed his cock a few times, watching it bounce against his stomach. “Shall we play?” He flicked the ring around his cock with an evil smile between his lover's legs.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of his balls being constricted by the ring as well. It didn't hurt, but just knowing it was there was frustrating enough to drive him the first bit towards desperation and he had no way of verbalising that either. John slid the stimulator into his pocket and, in strong arms, picked his slut up. He deposited him on the bed and moved to change his position and use the bondage equipment that would be more suitable to the torture the younger man was about to receive.

John clipped a short chain that was attached to the headboard to the posture collar. That would serve to limit Sherlock's movements a bit. John unfastened the leash that he had used to tether the detective's feet to the collar and pulled his legs down. “Now think very carefully, slut, I'm going to untie your feet. Not for long., but long enough for you to get yourself into further shit if you want to.”

Sherlock offered a slight incline of his head, as much as he could, to suggest he wasn't going to fight, but John wasn't about to risk a kick in the face, so he got the leather cuffs ready before he untied him. Once that was done, John used Sherlock's cock as a handle, tugging upwards until the detective lifted his hips, then he shoved a pillow under him to raise his arse for easier access.

Without saying anything to the younger man he pressed the prostate stimulator to his hole and slowly pushed it through. He knew he'd hit the spot when Sherlock bucked up. The detective tried to wriggle away, John was hitting that spot ruthlessly, not with gentle probing, but he chased right after him, not giving him a moment's relief.

John played with it for what felt like hours to the detective, but couldn't have been that long, surely? When he removed it, there was an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, we're not done yet, slut, I was thinking of trying those beads. Well, they're more balls than beads aren't they? How big was the largest one? 2 inches? Much too big for a bead.” John laughed when Sherlock's cock twitched, giving the lie to the detective's growls of protest. He climbed off the bed and fetched the beads, then sank down to sit between Sherlock's thighs. “I'm not even gonna stretch you further, so you better hope you did a good job.” John pressed the smallest of the balls to his hole and watched in fascination as it sunk in with ease. Sherlock groaned.

There were ten balls in all, each one bigger than the one before. The feeling of being stuffed by the balls grew with each one pressed into him. They rubbed against one another and shifted against Sherlock's inner walls, but the worst part was the insistent prodding at his prostate and John didn't even need to do anything… So he didn't. He just looped the end of the rope around Sherlock's toe so every time he moved, so did the balls; a catch 22.

Sherlock found it was impossible to stay still, despite his best efforts. That John had sat back and simply started watching his struggles didn't help. It was infuriating, but the doctor's appreciative gaze made Sherlock squirm even more.

It wasn't long before John struggled to remain on top of his giggles. Sherlock was going around and around in circles. He managed to stay still for a moment, but the fatal error he kept making was thinking too hard - when he began to relax, he glanced at John, who was watching intently, and squirmed all the more.

If Sherlock thought being stared at was infuriating, being completely ignored was worse. John grabbed his laptop and began tapping away; an agenda other than Sherlock apparently on his mind.

Sherlock commenced to huff and whine, groan and whimper. He did everything he could to get John's attention. But none of it worked. John was quite content to sit and focus on the screen rather than the naked figure prone on the bed.

Eventually, Sherlock let out a single, very dramatic groan. His body went limp, then he launched into a frenzy, struggling against both himself and his bonds. It was violent enough that John worried for the safety of Sherlock's neck. He wasn't going to untie him, though, that would make things too easy. So instead, he unbuckled the posture collar and replaced it with the more familiar leather one, reattaching it to the headboard.

This time, John pulled a pillow over and placed it atop Sherlock's chest, then he placed his laptop on the pillow. Straddling the other man's thighs, he set about typing again. That should keep the git from moving. However, this position led John to get distracted very quickly, seeing as there was an extremely hard cock bouncing around in front of him. He traced his finger around the ring, being as tormenting as possible. With his other hand, he closed the laptop, setting it aside. The pillow got tossed aside as well. John looked at Sherlock, the young man's shoulders had to be aching by now. There would be a massage due later tonight, for now... The doctor slid backwards between Sherlock's legs. “You're an impossible distraction.”

Sherlock had given up by now and was staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the balls rumbling around inside him. Drool was leaking out around the gag rather insistently and the thrum of pleasure racing through his cock was nearly unbearable.

“Tell me, my pretty little slut, if I let up and take off that gag, do you think you can convince me to take pity on you?” John fingered the ring around Sherlock's cock and balls again.

The detective nodded frantically, sending sweat flying from his curls.

John laughed. “Or maybe I've already given you enough freedom in removing that collar you so despise…”

Now Sherlock shook his head frantically in the negative.

John slid forward and unbuckled the gag, but didn't remove it, holding it in place. “Use that pretty mouth for something besides spitting invective, or I promise you I'll put this gag back and walk out the door.”

Sherlock swallowed with difficulty and John could see his thought processes like an open book so wasn't surprised when he attempted to push the gag out with his tongue.

John shoved it back in, deep enough to be more than a bit uncomfortable. “That's very poor behaviour. Shall we try again?”

This time the detective didn't react. John gave him more than enough time to protest if he felt like it, but eventually he gave in and John removed it fully. “Better.”

Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and cautiously licked his lips, then worked his jaw, getting the stiffness out. Even when he'd managed it, he kept completely still, determined not to give John any further ammunition to throw at him. The doctor nodded, finally satisfied by the younger man's submission.

John came up on his knees, not wanting to put damaging weight on the detective's shoulders, he grabbed the headboard, then he lowered himself over Sherlock's mouth. The detective wasted no time in going to work, stretching up as best he could and sucking at one of John's balls.

“In a minute, I'm going to fuck you into the mattress, now is your chance to earn your own orgasm.”

Sherlock nodded, not trusting himself to speak politely as he licked and sucked.

“No, slut, you're not gagged anymore. If I wanted a nod of the head, I would have left that in.” He indicated the gag he'd thrown to the side.

Suppressing a growl, Sherlock did his best to respond civilly. “I want it, sir.” He gave John a lick. “I'll be good, I'll do a good job.” Another lick and a dramatic groan.

“I have no doubt that you want it, my doubt is, do you deserve it?”

Sherlock let out a shaky, plaintive cry. “No, but please let me try.” He nuzzled at John's bollocks. “God, sir. Let me try to be good for you.”

John hummed contemplatively. “You have 5 minutes.”

Sherlock nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

Five minutes of attention from Sherlock's mouth were heavenly, but John refused to verbally acknowledge that fact. Of course, the doctor had rather given himself away with his nonverbal vocalisations, but he could always throw the younger man a few curve balls, so that's what he did.

John drew away from the detective and, much to Sherlock's surprise and no little chagrin, belted the gag back in place. “Good job, slut.” The doctor shook his head. “How are those shoulders doing?”

No sooner had John asked the question, than Sherlock became aware of the deep discomfort and aching. He groaned in response as well as annoyance, he had done nothing to deserve being gagged again. Except… he realised, this was exactly what he'd asked for.

John made a point of twisting his collar around so the chain was behind his head and then he spun him over. The detective grumbled and whined as the 10 balls inside of him shifted and knocked into each other. When Sherlock's arms were released, they hurt too much for him to put up a fight. John rubbed each shoulder briefly before cuffing Sherlock's wrists and fastening them to the opposite ends of the headboard.

The sub was beginning to regret asking John for this, he couldn't work out whether he was pissed off or overwhelmed with how John was performing. He dropped his head into the pillow. Of course he was overwhelmed, John was fantastic, but that didn't make him any more comfortable.

John's hands roamed over Sherlock's body, giving particular attention to the younger man's striped arse. He couldn't resist pinching a couple of the fading welts. He then took the string from the balls and began tugging it gently. It may have been gentle on the outside, but on the inside Sherlock was writhing. A muffled yell made John take a step away. He gripped the sub’s hair and tugged his head back. “Problem, slut?” Sherlock whimpered. He looked thoroughly debauched, his eyes gone dark and wide. The younger man was clearly lost to sensation. John gave the curls in his hand another tug, allowing Sherlock to focus on the pain. It worked, he could see a level of clarity return to those beautiful eyes.

Sherlock shook his head slightly, hoping that was the right answer to whatever question John had asked. Thankfully the doctor seemed satisfied and let his head go. The sigh of relief was caught in the gag, but John could see it a mile off. Was that another chance to throw him off? He could claim the younger man hadn't been paying attention rather than succumbed in what he was feeling. Make him that little more dejected before giving him what he wanted.

John tugged on the string again experimentally. He didn't pull hard enough for a bead to pop out, just enough to increase the pressure. “Did you listen to a word I said or were you too busy playing around in your Mind Palace?”

Sherlock's head went remarkably still. John could hear his breathing as he tried to control the shallow breaths. The detective couldn't have retreated to his Mind Palace right then to save his life. There was a river of overloading sensation and need between him and that inner structure.

“Not willing to respond, Sherlock?” The sub nodded. “Ok, then did you listen to a word I just said?”

The detective's eyes went wide. He had been listening, but that was seconds ago, an eternity and now Sherlock had no idea how to respond. He gave the best nod he could, hoping that no further response would be required.

“That was a guess again wasn't it?”

Sherlock couldn't see John's face and if he could have, he would have realised there was a beaming grin on his face. He was pushing and pushing, determined for Sherlock to just flop; give up, give in, rather than guess how to please him. The detective gave it to him. Sherlock's head shook from side to side, then he nodded, feeling at a loss. He felt as though he were in freefall with nowhere to land. With no proper way of communicating his confusion and submission, Sherlock closed his eyes. His head hit the pillow and he collapsed, dejected. He didn't know what John wanted.

At that sign of true surrender, John made his move. The cock ring was flicked off and John bent down, engulfing Sherlock's cock in his mouth. Sherlock jerked in surprise, it had happened so quickly. One moment he was being grilled about paying attention, the next; John was sucking him off. The Dom reached up and unbuckled the gag.

The detective panted, “Sir, I don't… understand.”

John chuckled as he worked, quite pleased with that statement; however, that had been a coherent sentence. The doctor redoubled his efforts, quickly reducing Sherlock to nonverbal sounds. Using one hand, John groped until he found the string hanging from Sherlock's hole. Gently tugging once again, he came up for breath. “You gave me what I wanted. Not what you thought I wanted.”

Sherlock's silent 'O' was all John needed to prod him to lift his legs up, now determined to fuck him like he had wanted to for hours.

John squeezed the base of Sherlock's cock to keep him from coming as he gave the string of beads a sharp tug and pulled them from his body. The detective still cried out at the sensation and his cock jerked in John's hand.

“Hold it, slut!” The doctor pinched his bollocks to keep him from completing in John's hand and then lined himself up. “You'd better hold off until I say.”

Sherlock whimpered, wanting desperately for John to get on with it, but he daren't move to urge him to hurry. His eyes went unfocused and he held his breath in anticipation.

“Breath, slut,” John chuckled.

Sherlock exhaled heavily, his eyes focusing on his Dom's who grinned. John slid in easily and then stopped, simply enjoying the feel. When he began to move, Sherlock's breathing picked up, coming hard and ragged.

“John, sir, please move faster.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you love me?”

John barked a laugh, but didn't increase his pace. “Yes, I do.”

“Please!” Sherlock wailed.

John froze, then asked, “Safe word?”

Sherlock's head was so far gone, he attempted to shrug. “I don't know, you made it!”

“Christ! I meant, do you want to safe word?”

Sherlock nodded frantically. “Yes, yes. That. Safe word! Now, please hurry up and fuck me hard and fast.”

John stopped where he was, not giving in to the younger man – that wasn't a valid reason to safe word – instead he ran his finger up the underside of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock came on the spot. 

“Oh, fuuuck, John!” Sherlock shivered through his orgasm, his hole clenching around John. In turn, bringing the older man's orgasm like a chemical reaction. “The thing is, slut, did you ask for permission?”

Sherlock's eyes snapped open making John laugh. “Calm down, Little Lockie.”

That nickname made Sherlock go positively limp - only John could do that to him.

John unbuckled Sherlock's wrists and ankles, stopping to kiss him thoroughly twice.

“You know, I really do love you, John.”

John responded with a smile and another kiss.


End file.
